


Witcher's Rebate

by Kissa



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sex Worker, butt stuff, rebate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: Geralt sees a sex worker.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98





	Witcher's Rebate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a conversation with my friend and her pointing out a detail in the scene with the sex worker in episode 3. Basically she felt that maybe Geralt paid for the regulr sex but not for the butt stuff. I said no, he gets the Witcher's Discount. She said there is no such thing as discounts in prostitution. I say there is a Witcher's Discount (Rebate) if I'm writing it!!!

Geralt wondered why this particular woman of ill repute (not that he held their profession against them) insisted he bathe and let her soap him all over - ALL over - before they got down to it, but he wasn’t about to protest. He loved baths and how they drained the exhaustion from his bones. 

He didn’t judge and he knew he of all people was not in the position to, but before it even came to the moral question, the simple truth was Geralt loved seeing sex workers. Like him, they were ready to do a lot for coin, and being nice and fair to them unlocked many unexpected benefits.  
  
Geralt felt he had no friends, but sex workers all over the Continent knew him to be a good customer. It had earned him some unexpected favours at really dire times.  
  
So, now he was with Stina-Beate, a crisp forty year old woman who looked like a fresh twenty year old, by ways known only to her. Geralt liked seeing her because she was witty and an involved listener. Also, she seemed to be up to date with all the underground information in all the Continent. And lastly, she was generous with her attentions and had very few no-no-s on her list.  
  
Like very few other workers in her profession, Stina-Beate allowed kisses on the mouth and Geralt loved that, just like he loved that she didn’t push him out of bed before his sweat cooled on his skin after he came. She seemed to enjoy sending him away after a lazy time recovering, sharing snacks and holding him close as they snuggled against the pillows and the bed headrest together.  
  
Now, he would have been confused to learn Stina-Beate had a subset of rules for witchers and an even more exclusive sub-sub-set of rules for witchers named Geralt of Rivia. But she kept that from him, because after their first time together she had learned one truth about her client: despite the extremely threatening exterior, this particular witcher had a soft, gooey marshmallow core, quivering with affection for many things and even people, and not knowing how to ask for the same thing in return. Pointing out that truth to him would have brought nothing good, so, in her career-honed wisdom, Stina-Beate had decided some revelations were not essential in her client leaving her company a happy man. 

Geralt regretfully let go of her lower lip when she moved away and slipped off his lap. She had pounced on him as soon as he had sat on the edge of the bed, the drying cloth he had around his hips undone. Straddling him, she had felt him harden rapidly as they kissed. His hands had come up to her breasts, kneading them, pinching and rolling at the nipples until they were hard and prickling in the cool air of the room. Geralt’s hums and sighs were signs that he was having a good time.  
  
Now she was kissing her way down his body, nipping at a collarbone, swiping her tongue over the dip at the base of his throat and peppering small kisses over his chest and sides, sometimes stopping to suck sharply on a nipple and soothe with a swipe of her tongue.  
  
Geralt fell back onto his forearms, watching the woman worship him in earnest. He knew it was not done freely, but it was real, as real as the velvet pouch full of coin he had given her at the start of the day.  
  
It was late morning now - a time when other sex workers slept and tended to their own plans, so Geralt was glad Stina-Beate had still slipped him into her schedule.  
  
Fucking at daytime was strange for him. It had a real quality to it, unlike the nighttime trysts he usually engaged in. It was also an indulgence, an instance of luxury, and a cause for mild concern.  
  
His paramour was glowing in the bright, colourful light of day. Geralt felt that his body must appear all the more repulsive to her at the time, with all its scars and imperfections illuminated to such a harsh extent.  
  
But Stina-Beate quickly did away with his critical thinking abilities, as well as with his usual internal monologue of worry. Her teeth scraped over the skin of his side before she nipped it and proceeded to lick a wet trail over to his now engorged cock, which lay on his belly, hard and making a small sticky pool on the skin and hair beneath. 

He bent one leg and rested it on the bed, falling flat onto the soft expanse and muffling a “fuck” when she took him into her mouth. Few could swallow him whole, and even then it was a trying task, but Stina-Beate knew her way around all kinds of cocks and she soon had him thrusting up into her mouth while her hands worked the base of his shaft and the balls.  
  
She knew exactly what kind of pressure to apply, how to rub her thumb up and down along the seam and stop sucking just so she could draw a W with her tongue, tracing the contours of his sack and twin round contents.  
  
She worked him until she felt his hips stutter in their small thrusts and heard his little muffled pleas for release. It felt as though she was intent on sucking his very soul out through his cock, as some extra payment for her taking his business at daytime or something. Geralt feared he might come too hard and die from it and he found he was perfectly alright with that prospect.  
  
He was right there. Felt his balls tighten and push his seed right out through his now impossibly swollen cock-  
  
\- and Stina-Beate stopped, pulling off his cock with a wet, squelching sound. Smiling deviously, she went lower and licked a trail down over his balls, across his perineum and asshole.  
  
Geralt nearly died then and there. No one, absolutely no one had touched him there, not with their tongue.  
  
But he didn’t stop her. His hands went to rest on the sheets on either side of him and he brought his other leg up, folding it and resting its sole on the bed, keeping his legs open wide.  
  
Her lips and tongue worked their magic in the spot he could best feel them in that moment. He had not expected it to feel so good, and when her hands returned to massaging his cock, he was right back into it, trembling from all his joints, still close.   
  
He felt her tongue sneak up into him, not much, just enough to make him lose his grasp on reality. The slurping, utterly filthy sounds she was making, with no concern for decorum whatsoever, were also stoking the flames of Geralt’s arousal. He soon began to shake, all over his body. Some new sensations were coming into the foreground and he was falling apart.  
  
Stina-Beate’s lips closed around his entrance as though it were a mouth, and her tongue licked around it and snuck in, like in a kiss. She sucked, nipped and licked at him as though she intended to open him up and crawl inside him.  
  
And Geralt felt opened alright. He could no longer feel his body, except maybe for his asshole and his toes, which curled and uncurled uncontrollably.  
  
When she was happy with how incoherent and trembling he had become, she added her fingers and, having coated them in her own wetness, she used them to reach his deep pleasure spot, even as her tongue kept working around the fingers.  
  
Some of Geralt’s come hit him in the eye as he shot what did seem a lifetime’s worth of come and his soul with it as well, the actual ripples of his release lasting way after was spent.  
  
He could only lie there and wait for the world to hopefully return to usual and for his vision to refocus.  
  
She only briefly left him alone as she went to freshen up and recompose herself in the bathroom. When she returned, Stina-Beate wrapped him in her arms, as best as she could, since he was way wider than her, caressing his hair and his back once he turned to face her.  
  
“That was... hmm.” He said eventually.  
  
“Good hmm or bad hmm?” She asked, sounding amused.  
  
“Very good, but confused hmm.” Geralt gave back. “You never did this before.”  
  
“You did say you wanted to feel light and carefree… were you even able to maintain a thought through that?”  
  
Geralt felt himself blush.  
  
“No. Point taken.” He answered. “I definitely can’t afford you, if these are your terms after all.”  
  
“I’ve had a recent restored memory visit me, “ Stina Beate said. “And I’ve decided that the Witcher’s Rebate applies.”  
  
Geralt laughed and left it at that, grateful and still pretty empty-headed from the previous experience.  
  
Stina-Beate moved so he could rest his head on her breasts while they talked and waited for him to be ready to proceed.  
  
A long time ago, when she had been but a girl, way before her father had sold her into her profession, a young witcher had saved her from being raped on an open road. She had never repaid him or even got the chance to say thank you, as she had looked at his blood-covered form, screamed, vomited and passed out. When she had woken up, he’d been gone. Her mind had hidden the entire incident from her consciousness, and along with it, the face of her rescuer.  
  
She had always liked Geralt and treated him way over what as expected for the coin she got.  
  
But recently, as her mind had decided to reveal to her that he was the witcher who had saved her that time long ago, it had all fallen into place - why she was so drawn to him, why she wanted to lavish him with all her skills and tenderness and why she wanted to see him happy, or, if that was impossible, falling apart and quivering with pleasure on her bed. And for that, she would use any method at her disposal.  
  


Soon, she was pulled back from her pleased musings by Geralt slipping one leg between hers and guiding her hips to make her rub herself on his muscular thigh. 

It was going to be a long day, since witchers could last for an impressive amount of rounds, and Geralt was not your average witcher. But that was exactly what Stina-Beate had been hoping for.  
  
(end)


End file.
